CHAPTER 2

John Tracy frowned and swiped away his fringe as he prepared Thunderbird Five for the docking of the huge red spaceship looming on its right hand side. He reminded himself to have a haircut when he got back to the base. Every time he embarked on a tour of duty, it seemed to grow an inch overnight.

From behind the expansive clear panels of the satellite, he could see Alan commencing the standard procedure.

John turned to check the autopilot. He didn't like leaving Five unattended. There were many times during his long and lonely vigil, that what started out as a voice in the distant background resulted in a full blown mission for International Rescue. It wasn't as if he didn't trust Brains or the new technology but in the back of his mind he wondered what would happen if the autopilot failed to pick up any of those voices.

Then he berated himself. Maybe the job was starting to get to him if he couldn't look forward to a few days off.

However, for John, this particular trip didn't signal time way from active duty. This was for the family reflection on one of the earliest memories of his childhood. In seven months John would be twenty-five, however that memory went back to the night when he was three and a half years old. It would always be vivid, if he didn't push it into the back of his mind when it surfaced. His mother had gone to the hospital to have the baby brother everyone was so excited about.

She never came home.

The inner door of the air lock slid open and Scott and Alan strode into Thunderbird Five, side by side. As usual, Alan didn't look happy.

Scott made a point of ignoring him while he gave his middle brother a hug.

"Johnny."

"Scott." John returned the gesture even though his tone was a little flat.

Scott did a double take and looked at him, quizzically. "What's up?" The question, though brief, held a slight hint of concern.

John forced himself to brighten up. "Nothing, Scott. Maybe I'm a bit tired, that's all." Then he turned to his youngest brother. "And I won't even ask what's up with you."

"Good," Alan sulked.

John raised an eyebrow. He didn't need Alan to tell him what was up. It was clear he was in the middle of a dummy spit, more than likely about Scott tagging along as his crew. John knew for a fact Alan hated relying on a co-pilot. John didn't like his father's rule either and he was way more experienced than Alan was. But protocol was protocol and following it was what they'd signed up for when they agreed to be a part of International Rescue.

"Right, let's do this." Scott strode over to the console fitted with the autopilot, keen to complete their task. He refrained from pointing out to Alan they had a job to do and he didn't want to waste time just because he hadn't liked what he'd heard.

"Automating now."

Scott's eyes darted from left to right as John entered the twelve digit code and the sophisticated equipment blinked into life. After five minutes of scrutiny he seemed satisifed with the result.

"Great! Faster than last year."

"I aim to please."

Alan relented and joined them at the console. As he and John alternated the month by month rotation of duty in the satellite, he was equally interested in the performance of the upgraded equipment.

"Brains assured Dad the new link's foolproof but Brains has been wrong before," he observed, still cautious.

"That's true enough Alan." To a point, John was prepared to agree with him. "But to me it looks like he's right on the money this time. It's a green light from me, Scott."

"FAB. Alan, go and update the Base will you?"

"I will when we're airborne."

"Alan..." Scott sighed. "... now please."

John decided he'd had enough of these two. There was a fine line between family and what was expected of them in International Rescue and Alan seemed hell-bent on crossing that line, even single chance he got.

"Alan," he demanded, exasperated, "what's the deal with you, tonight?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Alan snapped back. "He's been on my back ever since we left the base."

At John's helpless glance, Scott began to explain before Alan could say anything else.

"He was asked to be careful about what he said around Dad tonight," he said calmly.

Now it was Alan interjecting. "And I was careful. I only said ..."

Still unfazed, Scott carried on. "The first thing he did was challenge Dad about not needing a crew in Three ... again. Then he had to push the envelope about what happened during the rescue."

Alan was starting to become really frustrated now. "It was Gordon, not me, who brought up the rescue."

"If you'd followed Virgil's orders in the first place, Alan, it wouldn't have been bought up at all!"

John gave up and let them argue. He'd heard the exchanges himself during the rescue, and thought Virgil had handled Alan very well. He'd also heard the instructions Virgil issued which had resulted in two mothers safely giving birth. Two sides to every story. If the two of them didn't get it, he did. It's what happened living and working in a family of five brothers. Better to take the neutral view and only comment on the rest.

"Alan, it's pointless pushing Dad's buttons over how he wants us to fly Thunderbird Three. Whether we agree with him or not, he was a Colonel in the Agency plus he's more experienced than either of us. "

Their blue eyes locked, Alan's unhappy, John's firm.

It was Alan who looked away first.

"I'm done here," he grumbled. "Fifteen minutes to blast-off. "

With that he turned on his heel and strode back through the airlock.

John offered Scott an apologetic shrug. It was no use trying to reason with the kid. Alan was an over-achiever, ambitious, fearless; with the Open US Racing Championship already under his belt. When he'd raced on the track he'd made his own decisions and good or bad, was more than happy to live with them. He was struggling with the command structure of International Rescue and John was sure that, in the back of his mind, he had to be worried that his birthday was going to be hard.

"Come on, " Scott said. "There's nothing more for us to do here."

John shot one last glance in the direction of the autopilot before the brothers left it to function in outer space on its own.


Once inside the rocket-ship, Alan headed to the flight deck while John settled next to Scott on the lower deck of the craft.

"T minus 49. Prepare for blast-off," Alan instructed.

"Lift-off," he announced five minutes later before switching off the communications, knowing he was unable to be heard.

Scott rolled his eyes when he heard the dismissive click. Alan knew the deal about their communications. Open communication from blast-off to silo - no exceptions - all decks. But there was nothing from the flight deck even as the rocket cleared Thunderbird Five and streaked through the universe on its way back to earth.

"Why, Johnny?" he asked in frustration. "I've lost count of the number of times I've tried to talk sense into him. It's the same rules for everyone, no matter how capable he thinks he is. I swear if he doesn't turn that thing back on pronto, I'll file a formal report. And I don't want to file a report. Not at this time of year."

John kept his eyes on the back-up console, remembering what had happened last year and without the complication of a report. Alan's frustrated admission, their father misinterpreting it...

All over the woman John could hardly remember. Even now, it still didn't make any sense.

Last year's memory also extended to him reflecting alone, once Grandma had managed to cut the explosive situation short. He'd always love Alan, even though that night he hadn't really liked him. He sure didn't know when to pick his moments and with his father's idea of respect engrained in him like concrete, there were too many things that shouldn't have been said.

"Scott, you don't need a report. I'll go up and knock some sense into him, myself."

Scott indicated the elevator to Thunderbird Three's flight deck. "Be my guest. But you can tell him from me - no communications by re-entry and I'll be his Field Commander not his brother. I also need his confirmation pronto that Base has been contacted about the autopilot."

"Jesus, anything else?"

"Don't be a smart ass. I mean what I say, Johnny."

"Don't doubt it for a second. Wish me luck."

The look on Scott's face told John he didn't think luck was going to help.


Thunderbird Three was thirty minutes from re-entry into the atmosphere when John Tracy ambled out the elevator and into the flight deck.

Alan didn't turn around.

"Not now. I'm busy, Scott."

"It's not Scott," John said evenly, "and before you open that big mouth of yours, I know all about this craft and what's required for re-entry. Scott's keeping an eye on our trajectory until I get back down there. Those communications are going to go on right after you and I talk."

"We don't have anything to talk about. Plus I need to concentrate on what the hell I'm doing."

"Try doing two things at once."

Alan ignored the sarcasm, checking the various controls, and stubbornly refusing to be drawn into anything else.

"Fine, then ..." John settled himself to the left of the communications. "... I can wait it out just like you can. However, in exactly twenty-five minutes, I'm going to override Three's communications with a little device I've rigged up through the autopilot in Thunderbird Five. In twenty-six minutes we'll be in contact with the Base, full stop. Unlike you, I don't have a death wish."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I am not going to sit back and have my name listed any of Scott's reports."

"Report! Shit!"

For a minute John thought something he said must have resonated with the kid. He was almost pleased when Alan hurriedly stabbed at the main communication panel, re-establishing the link between Thunderbird Three and Tracy Island. Then it dawned on him that Alan hadn't reported that the autopilot was functional. Shit all, right. All John could hope was their father wasn't on the other end of the vid-link when it finally opened up.

"Base to Thunderbird Three. Alan? Oh thank goodness!"

It wasn't their father.

It was Tin-Tin.

From where he sat , John could see her behind their father's desk, scanning Alan's face and telling him she was glad that it was him.

"Are you still in the satellite?" she asked with a real urgency. "Your father's worried there's been some sort of problem with the automation.".

"Relax, Tin-Tin. There were no problems in Thunderbird Five. The automation was successfully completed and we're commencing re-entry in nineteen point five minutes."

Tin-Tin sounded confused. "Re-entry? Alan, you know Mr. Tracy won't be very happy about that."

Alan conceded that his father wouldn't be pleased but glossed it over by changing the subject to their ETA back on the Island.

"One fifteen, Tin-Tin."

"FAB, I'll relay your message."

"I appreciate that, honey."

"This is International Rescue Base; I'll be waiting for you, Alan."

As the link fell into silence, John was left wondering what to think.

"Waiting for you?" he repeated; eyes wide with surprise. "Is there something you need to tell me about you two?"

Alan didn't flinch. "We're friends. Now, can you leave me to do what I'm expected to do? The last thing I need is anyone else giving me advice about what I should and shouldn't be saying to Dad."

"Somehow I don't think you'll get to say anything, kid."

John didn't feel the same obligations as Scott. He was number three of five - the middle son. Virgil was the one who backed Scott up. John had always been comfortable doing his own thing, live and let live, except if the actions of any of his brothers had the potential to affect him. The thought of Alan being chewed out didn't sit well with John but with him still struggling to come to terms with how the 'family business' worked, he needed a reminder from Father that he was expected to play his part. At least if he wanted to remain part of International Rescue.

"We re-enter the atmosphere in exactly fifteen minutes, Alan." His expectation was as clear as it was blunt. "And we both know what you are required to do."

Then he quietly congratulated himself as he turned towards the elevator, satisfied when his brother agreed to flip the switch.


Scott was absorbed in his role as co-pilot when the elevator slid open and John strode in to re-join him on the lower deck. It wasn't a role Scott preferred, especially when it came to the monthly rotations. Always the same flight path, the trajectory relying on the time of year it was. John might love the darkness and glitter of the universe but to Scott it didn't come close to the rush he got from flying Thunderbird One.

He looked up from the screen as John seated himself next to him, offering to take over the controls.

"Well?"

John checked his wrist communicator. The kid had less than ten minutes.

"He's agreed to open the link five minutes prior to re-entry," he said evenly. "If he doesn't, he's already been warned I'll open the damn thing myself."

"Since when have you been able to over-ride our communications?" Scott asked him.

"I think you'd be surprised at what I can actually do, BB."

"Humph, and here I was thinking that all you do all day is sit around and wait for distress calls."

"Very funny."

John re-checked his communicator. Eight minutes to re-entry.

"By the way, he did relay your message to the base about the autopilot," he added.

"Things are looking up." Scott sounded a little hopeful.

"Not so fast with the celebrations, BB. I think Dad will be asking you to lodge that formal report."

Scott dropped his head into his hand when he heard the explanation. The late-night ETA was bad enough but writing a report for their father after they got there? How did Alan always find a way to make bad turn into worse? Then John started speculating whether or not Alan had a thing going with Tin-Tin ... if they did, it was the first he'd heard of it. When he'd accepted the position of Field Commander he didn't sign up to deal with the fall-out of that.

"This is the flight deck to International Rescue. Preparing for re-entry."

John grinned and knew there was no need to check his communicator a third time.

Alan had re-opened communications ...five minutes ... right on the dot.


The knock on the door made Jeff Tracy jump. He had just turned off the light, despite the fact he still had a few questions he wanted to ask. Questions for Scott. Questions for Alan. Questions his mother had said could wait and she'd warned him she wasn't kidding. There was a birthday in the house and like all birthdays it had started at midnight. In her opinion, at one thirty in the morning, it was time for him to turn out the lights.

In response to his gruff invitation, the door slid open. John was standing on the other side.

"Hi, Dad. Grandma said she doubted that I'd wake you."

Jeff motioned him inside.

"Well, she's right, as usual. It's good to see you, son."

"You too, Dad. I just thought I'd re-confirm the automation and let you know the return flight went off without any hitches."

"I appreciate that, John."

The boy was nervous. Jeff could tell. And given the mood he was in after he'd spoken to Tin-Tin, Jeff figured he had every right to be. An hour ago, he'd left Brains and Virgil manning his desk with express orders that they were to monitor Thunderbird Three's return to Base and if any problems were detected he wanted to be the first to know. He was still annoyed at Alan's failure to follow standard procedure but, on reflection had decided that after a decent night's sleep he might be prepared to let it drop.

"John, I want to know more about that autopilot."

As expected, John gave him a careful response.

"It was faster than last year, Sir. Brains did a good job."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing that from you, son." Brains had delivered the requested enhancement in just under fourteen days and Jeff was relieved the son most experienced in laser communications was giving it a big thumbs up.

"I've already made a point of telling him. Dad, is there anything else you need tonight?"

For two minutes the questions Jeff wanted to ask were on the tip of his tongue but he chose to allow the matter to rest.

"Anything I need to know can wait for now. Good night, son."